


Colour

by The_Silent_Writer



Series: Herbs and Spices [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Established Relationship, Lots of flower names, M/M, Mention of instruments of torture, More gardening, Scale colour hate, Smaug's not fond of his colours, wooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1522031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Silent_Writer/pseuds/The_Silent_Writer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The couple go out to buy some new flowers. Bilbo is predictable with what he wants, and those tastes make Smaug a bit uncomfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Colour

Bilbo and Smaug set out early one morning to look for new plants. The hobbit had told the dragon-man that early morning is the best time to see the beauty of flowers. As the sun breaks over the Hills of Hobbiton, the buds awaken and greet the world in a breeze of rich, flamboyant colours.

Smaug had caught Bilbo in the garden many a time in the morning, just sitting on his wooden bench and whispering a “Good morning!” when blooms of red, orange and yellow made their appearance. That was, of course, before the dragon-man royally botched up the flower beds. Granted, his mate had given him a warning and offered him help, but he had stubbornly refused. At least he knew he had to take the blame.

He yawned, making sure to be obscenely loud. Bilbo gave him a look and Smaug was sure to return it. He didn’t exactly appreciate being woken up this early in the day. Even worse, he could already tell what Bilbo wanted to get! Red being the hobbit’s favorite colour, made Carnations, Celosia, and Aster an obvious ‘yes’. Smaug could admit that they were nice, but they had no practically, no refined look to them. He became deep in thought as they walked to the garden shop.

Upon their arrival, the owner of the shop gave a merry greeting to the both of them, then went back to tending his nurseries.

On cue, Bilbo went straight to the reddest flowers he could find. A pot of flourishing Aster flowers was sitting on a shelf. The tier it was located on was higher than Bilbo could reach, but he tried to reach for them regardless of his vertical challenges. A faint blush rose to Smaug’s cheeks as he watched his mate’s display of determination. Small fingers and short arms stretching as far as they could, a bit of Bilbo’s lower back being revealed from where his shirt had untucked itself. The dragon-man reached forward in a single, elegant motion and picked up the flower pot to hand down. In his eyes, the huff Bilbo returned only added to his quaintness. His eyes told Smaug that he was thankful for the gesture, but his body language said that he was a bit not happy about not being able to obtain his own quarry.

Smaug mentally slapped himself for aiding in the conquest for maroon-coloured foliage. He had no clue as to why his mate had such a staunch love for deep crimson and burgundies. There was nothing especially exciting about them. He should know, bits and pieces of him were the exact same colours! Bilbo had lived with him for years now, he should be sick and tired—or at least used to—this very ordinary shade of red. To back up his case even further in his head, the hues that Bilbo was so attached to were reminiscent of blood. His thief  _hated_ the sight of anything bleeding, let alone his own blood, so why be so interested in something that could remind him of it? The whole ordeal frustrated Smaug and had him running around in circles in his head. Why that colour? It was hideous, wasn’t it? It had to be. It was the colour of blood, of fear… Of Smaug.

While his mind raced around, he hadn’t noticed that Bilbo had chosen his keep and was haggling a price with the shop owner. He had missed his chance to change his mate’s mind. And there Bilbo was, handing over a few coins and coming over to him looking as pleased and could be.

“These are beautiful, aren’t they, love?” Bilbo asked, his voice sounded content. The hobbit was happy with his purchase and more than ready to return home so he could proudly display the new flowers.

“Yes… Quite.” Smaug choked out a reply, but refused to look at the contents of the clay pot in the Halfling’s hands. He still couldn't understand it! How could such an imperfect colour catch the eye of his mate?

Bilbo smiled sheepishly, seeing the look in his dragon’s eyes that he thought was well hidden. “I think they’re lovely…” He sighed as the look on Smaug’s face soured even more. “So lovely, in fact, that the moment we’re home, we should plant them!”

Smaug gave a quick peek at Bilbo and the bushel of flowers that seemed to make him so happy. “You know how I am with gardening. It wouldn’t be the wisest of plans to let me help you.”

“I suppose you’re right, love” Bilbo agreed with a chuckle. “Can’t have what happened last time happen again.” He raised his arms as high as he could, nudging Smaug with the large flower pot. “Would you mind carrying this the rest of the way? I don’t think my arms can handle it.” That was a lie, of course. He had done his fair share of lifting heavy weights for long amounts of time during his stay with Thorin and Company. The flower pot was nothing. This was merely to prove a notion Bilbo had in his mind.

The dragon-man looked down. It  _did_ look like his mate was having a hard time carrying something so heavy… He relented, nodding, and took the clay basin from Bilbo. Smaug held back a groan. Great, now  _he_ was the one carrying the blasted things. The blooms and flowers of the Asters and Camellias (even the Celosias) were beautiful, he had to admit. Mr. Baggins had chosen well. But the  _colour_! Now that he was holding them, he could see how closely they matched with the patches of scales scattered across his body. It was eerie, really. It was almost like Bilbo had picked these _because_ of how closely they resembled his own colour.

Smaug couldn’t stand it. There was no way Bilbo had done that. Must he remind himself of how much his mate loathed the sight of blood? No, he knew well enough, and for some reason knowing that just made him hate his own colour even more. He let out a silent sigh, smoke wafting from his nostrils.

  _I could burn these to a crisp_ , he thought.  _Pretend to sneeze, a burst of flames, poof! No more of this dratted colour nonsense_.

The hobbit saw the smoke from the corner of his eye and looked up. “Are you about to sneeze, Smaug? Wouldn’t want our pretty, new flowers to burst into flames!” Bilbo laughed, jolting the dragon-man out of his flower-cidal thoughts.

“No, no. I’m quite alright.”  _Damn…_

The rest of the way home was silent, well, almost silent. Bilbo would hum little tunes every once in a while. This was how the dragon-man could tell his mate was in a fine mood. There was a certain theme that the Halfling would always chirrup, a melody that sounded sweet and calm, something that reminded Smaug of life in the Shire and it’s little, furry-toed residents. This tune in particular put Smaug in a better mood, its homey warbles filling his chest in a warm sensation. There was no way he could incinerate the bunch of flowers in his arms when his mate was so happy about them, right? 

_Right…_

When they arrived home, Smaug set the clay where he was instructed and immediately climbed onto the roof to sulk. It was petty and childish, he knew that, but he still wasn’t fond of having to see those flowers every day for his foreseeable future. Besides, the soft, grass-clad roof was his favorite place to lay about. Always in the sun and always close enough that he could get to Bilbo quickly if he needed to. (He still had some suspicion of the Shire folk, even after a few years of living with his hobbit. They were too friendly for their own good.)

What felt like hours—what probably was hours – went by with Smaug sunning himself on the roof. Not once did he sneak a peek at what Bilbo was up to. He could make out the faint clanging of those instruments of torture and the sifting of soil every so often. He both hated and loved the sound of the earth being patted down to secure those nasty coloured flowers. Smaug loved watching Bilbo work. The Halfling always looked so determined and set on what his goal was all while having a smile on his face. The thing he hated, though, was the finality of the pats to the soil. It meant those flowers were there to stay.

“Hey, love?”

“Hmm?” His mate’s voice never failed in taking him out of his mind’s labyrinth of thoughts. He made to roll over and look at Bilbo, but part way through he realized he really didn’t want to see the garden planted red.

Bilbo made note of his dragon-man refusing to look at the garden. He looked around at the series of different patterns he had created with the new flowers. To others it probably looked a bit haphazard, but to him it meant something special. “I think I’m done,” he called out. The only movement made by Smaug was him curling into a tighter ball. “Though… I think I might need to go back to the shop and get a few more Camellias. They had some deep-red Anthurium plants that looked pretty too. You know, the Anthurium really reminded me of your sc--” In an instant the wind was knocked out of him as his back met the ground.

Smaug had pushed Bilbo as gently as he could, but it had obviously shaken his mate a bit. He wanted to apologize for startling him, but enough was enough. The flower ordeal was at the fore front of his mind. “No more of the red flowers.” He winced as he listened to himself. It sounded like he was barking out an order. “…Please?” He asked as softly as he could in his worked up state.

The hobbit looked up and saw the confusion, frustration, and to some extent the pain that laced Smaug’s features. He gently pulled one of his arms free from the dragon-man’s grasp. Cupping Smaug’s face and tracing his fingers over the patch of scales running from his left temple to under his left eye, he smiled as he watched his dragon calming down. “Why don’t you like red, love? Bits and pieces of you are the same colour, I thought you’d like--“

“It’s because they’re the same colour that I don’t like them!”

Bilbo lifted an eyebrow as a sign of his displeasure, but smirked despite himself. “You know it’s not polite to interrupt.”

The dragon-man rolled his eyes. The tone in Bilbo’s voice was playful, but it was a definite fact that being interrupted was one of his biggest pet peeves. “I’m sorry… But it’s true. And I don’t understand why you seem to enjoy such a hideous colour!”

Mr. Baggins sat up. He held back a chuckle as he took in the situation. Such a large body sitting in his small lap was quite comical. “Hideous? I think the flowers are a great colour! And it’s because they remind me of you that I like them so much.”

Smaug was a bit taken aback. “ _Because_ they remind you of me?” He let out a roaring laugh. “You’re pulling my leg, surely?” His smile dissipated when he saw the seriousness of Bilbo’s face. “You’re… serious? You’re not lying?”

Bilbo shook his head. “Nope. Not lying.”

“But… They resemble blood and you  _hate_ blood!”

“I don’t think of blood when I see them. Blood isn’t all that pretty, but these are. They’re beautiful, just like you.” The hobbit smiled and there was a pinkish hue growing on his cheeks. He never thought he’d say something like that to Smaug. “I love you, and that means all of you.”

The dragon-man looked in disbelief. He was becoming flustered, his own cheeks beginning to flush a shade a light red. “Bilbo… You…”

Mr. Baggins was beaming with joy. “Come! I’ll show you what I’ve done!” He got up and led Smaug around the newly formed garden. “This part here,” he pointed to a patch of dark-red flowers in the shape of a lopsided four-leaf clover, “it’s from a patch of scales on your lower left back. Oh! And this one…” he began taking him to a bunch of flowers near the front right of the yard. It looked vaguely circular, like the sun, with tendrils—long, short, big and small— coming from every which-way. “Can you guess where this one is?”

Smaug caught his left hand coming over to stroke a patch of scales on his right shoulder. “Oh…” He wasn’t sure what to say, this had never happened before. He had never been very fond of this hybrid body of his. He was used to a body completely made up of thick scales and quite accustomed to the feel of Bilbo’s body, free of blemishes with soft hair in various places. The way he was now with random blotches of crimson scales disrupting the canvas of pale, taught and supple skin, didn’t look very appealing to him. But Bilbo… Bilbo saw the beauty in each and every one of his flaws. His mate never ceased to amaze him.

The Halfling flashed a triumphant smirk. He could always tell what his dragon was thinking, and he was very glad that Smaug was starting to see what he saw in those remarkable patches of scales. “This one, though,” he said taking Smaug over to the area next to his long wooden bench. “This one is my favorite.”

This bushel of flowers was smaller than the rest, probably for lack of room. It was shaped almost like a crescent moon whose top had broken but was still connected in some places. Flowers scattered here and there at the top, like a Company gathering and coming together to travel to their heartland. There were one or two flowers that jutted out from its sides. The shape looked ragged, but that was exactly how it should be. It was Smaug, through and through, and that was how Bilbo wanted it.

“This is the patch right here, isn’t it?” Smaug asked as a clawed hand traced the patch of scales around the circumference of his left eye.

“Mmhm.” Bilbo smiled, pulling Smaug down to meet him in a kiss. “Do you like the flowers more now, love?”

Smaug nodded, completely content with the garden now. He leaned forward and stole another kiss before going back to his makeshift bed on the roof. This time he faced himself outwards so he could look over the garden and his mate while he worked. “Thank you,” he purred as the sun bathed him in warmth.

Bilbo gave a smile in reply and went to put his gardening tools away. “You get to pick the next ones!” he exclaimed from inside the house.

The dragon-man closed his eyes and immediately began planning out his gift of foliage for his hobbit.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! I hadn't meant for this one to end up so long, sorry!  
> So, if you want to know what these flowers look like, most of them are here: http://www.teleflora.com/flowerglossary.asp  
> I've got so many pages saved on flowers, it's not even funny... Well, maybe it's a little funny XD
> 
> Again, thank you for reading!
> 
> -bows-


End file.
